My Language

The Afrikaans poem you can see here, is my first officially published piece of work. It's about my mother tongue, Afrikaans, that is being threatened by EFF members. I wrote it after I was caught in the crossfire between #Afrikaansmustfall and #afrikaanswillstay protesters. I was traumatised and angry because my educational opportunities are being threatened for no good reason.

Jy kan probeer om dit uit my nuusbriewe, vraestelle, handboeke en universiteit te haal, maar jy sal dit nie uit my uit kry nie.
My Taal.

Ek sal stil wees, maar ek sal nooit ophou praat nie.
Ek is 'n Afrikaan en ek sal nie jammer wees oor my velkleur of my voorvaders nie.

Baklei, sing, dans en verniel. Afrikaans word nie bang nie.
Brand my geboue af, My taal brand nie.
Beledig my, My taal gee nie om wat jy sê nie.
Kom met jou pangas en jou stokke, Afrikaans bloei nie.
Herinner my aan apartheid, ons weet. Afrikaans is NIE apartheid nie.

Afrikaans is braai, boerewors, koeksusters en Van-Der-Merwe-grappies.
Afrikaans is die gevoel wanneer 'n gedig vir jou hoendervel gee. Afrikaans is in my vreugde en my hartseer. Afrikaans is in ons. Ek sal nie lê nie. Ek sal staan vir Afrikaans.
Dit is wie ek is.
My Taal.
Botti

I have written an English interpretation of things as well.
My language is Afrikaans
Yet I choose to speak to you in English. English so that you cannot get lost in translation. English so that you will not strike against my words. English so that I can say I tried.

How dare you intimidate me on our campus, how dare you disrupt our classes, how dare you think that your demands and your requests are more important than that of the rest of us.

Tell me, does my language torture you? Does it throw bricks at you, hit you with sticks? Does the sound or thought of it, give you a fit?

Does it take away your rights? Does it attack you with fights? Is it my language? Or is it my race? Is it my words or is it my face? 11 official languages, yet you must attack mine, all developed through colonised times.

Do not dare blame me for my ancestors ways, I was not there, it was not my phase. Afrikaans will stay right in my heart, even if you hate it or me, we will ALWAYS take part.

Let's be honest comrade(am I allowed to say that?) or friend, your dispute with me, with us, will never truly end.
Botti

I would just like to add that I am in no way insinuating that all non-Afrikaans speaking people behave like this, this poem is directed at the individuals I am seeing in the videos, and photos disrupting academic activities. The individuals who are injuring innocent bystanders. I have no respect for you or your cause because you have no respect for mine.

If your mother tongue was under attack you would fight back too.

A final year student... Me?

Since my campus has finally reopened after annoying destructive strikes, reality is finally slapping me in the face that I am a third year, a final year student. It definitely doesn't mean I am smart. But I am definitely on A path of wisdom. One can never be done with learning. There is always something new to learn around every corner.

A new problem has announced itself... What is next? 5 years of preschool, 7 years of middle school, 5 years of high school, 3 to 8 years of university, depending on whether you want your masters, honours or doctoral degree as well... When will it end?

When you want it to end of course, why do we study? To get a job, why do we need one? To pay bills, food and for some, schoolfees for your child that will grow up, and do all the same... Boring isn't it? It doesn't have to be.

Be brave and bold and for goodness sake, be happy. Don't study medicine if you want to be an artist, don't study law if you want to be a singer. Go into the world and be the hero in your story. Follow your dreams, not the money trail. Money cannot buy passion. It won't be easy, but it will be worth it.

As a member of the human race you will face judgement and hatered, your response is up to you. If you are willing to face it, you can fight it, if you can fight it, you can conquer it, if you can conquer it... Well darling, then you have made it.

Dankbaarheid

En nog 'n Kersfees se son sak. Jong kinders pronk met hulle nuwe speelgoed, tieners pronk met nog tegnologie wat hulle nie nodig het nie. Jong mense instagram fotos van hulle nuwe geskenke, of dit nou juwele, 'n polaroid en skoene is, en of dit 'n mes, 'n bottel whiskey en nuwe oorfone is.

Die ouer dames ruik aan hul nuwe sepies en dink aan hoe lekker hulle vanaand gaan bad. Ouer manne se arms blink dalk met 'n nuwe horlosie, of braai lekkerder met hulle nuwe braai stel.

En almal is dik gevreet aan stysels, slaai, elke vleis ding wat hardloop en vlieg, en natuurlik die nagereg waarvoor jy eintlik te vol is maar jy is bang jy mis uit. By my ouma MAAK jy plek. Pavlova, room en aarbei of grindadella sous, en 'n sjokolade bom koek wat so dodelik is soos dit klink.

Maar dit gaan vir party mense lank al nie meer oor die boodskap en sentiment van kersfees nie. Dis net geskenke, grotes.. Wat baie geld kos.

Ek hoop tog daar is mense wat die tyd saam met hul gesinne waardeer. Die lewe is te kort om opgewonde te raak oor materialistiese dinge. 'n Geskenk wat ons almal vir onsself kan gee is om 'n oomblik te vat en te dink. Dink oor jou familie, dink oor die mense vir wie jy lief is en maak vir jou 'n "playlist" van dankbaarheid. Dit, is die regte geskenk, wat jou jaar na jaar beslis sal verras.

Halloween

'n Oorweldigende angstigheid druk asem vas in longe wat wil swel, en mens wonder of jy dit gaan maak. Die 10 000 dinge wat nog moet gebeur voor jy aan die ander kant uitkom. Gaan jy dit maak? Gaan die laat aande, vroeë oggende, kussing trane en krakerige rooi oë goed genoeg wees.

Gaan ek kans kry om my pen in die papier te sit, en mense 'n sitplek te kan gee in my kop? Gaan ek die rooi pen kan wys my kreatiwiteit is die moeite werd? Die rooi pen wat my soms oorweldig, wond, omhels en gelukwens. Die rooi pen wat ek nie kan verstaan nie. Die rooi pen wat my nie altyd wil verstaan nie. Hulle skryf meeste van die tyd groot lelike dokters handskrif briewe wat my nou nie juis motiveer nie.

Studente moet die rooi pen beïndruk vir 'n punt wat nie gaan saak maak by 'n kantoor met vetgedrukte letters wat jou toekoms kan bepaal nie. Die kantoor wil net "SLAAG" sien. Mens sukkel partykeer om gemotiveerd te bly om die rooi pen gelukkig te hou, maar die vang plek bly dat die rooi pen nou die alpha is. Die ink gaan een of ander tyd MÒET opraak.

Ek is 'n slagoffer van 'n chroniese siekte...
"Octoberitice" noem tannie Fia dit. Silly season is ook aanvaarbaar, of vir die wat minder oorspronklik is, die-jaar-is-nou-te-effing-lank virus. As ek slim genoeg was het ek Octoberitice beskou as 'n geldige verskoning om vreemd te wees. Almal ken dit.  Jy voel desperaat vir onwettige middels, of jy is net lus vir baie drank en slaap vir dae. Maar jy kan nie, want oktober is die moeilikste maand. Vir 'n student. Ek moet nog self die lewe na universiteit ervaar. Maar ons studente stres oor eksamens, die konstante kwessie van "gaan ek 'n werk kry?", en op hede, wat om te dra vir halloween. Halloween is eintlik baie toepaslik op octoberitice. Dis vreesaanjaend en vreemd en elke nou en dan sal dit lekker wees as jou stres net soos 'n riller-fliek afgesit kan word. Of oorgesit kan word na cartoons toe.

Maar, daar is tog 'n lig aan die einde van die oktonnel (oktober+tonnel) Oktober is slegs een maand uit twaalf. 'n Maand wat so vinnig verby gaan soos hy begin het. Hou kop en hou moed en hou net jou verbeelding bymekaar vir halloween. Daar gaan sletterige.. alles wees, scary narre, ironiese couples uitrustings en mense wat lyk of hulle in costume castle bly saam met grimeerkunstenaars.

Persoonlik glo ek halloween is die perfekte medisyne vir Octoberitice. So, as jy halloween geniet en nie glo dis lucifer se verjaarsdag of iets nie, gaan groot, trek mooi aan, en wees vir eens iets anders. Dis een aand. X

Fear of the unknown

And so, a new semester commences. New books, new work, new lecturers, same stress. Somehow a new task or challenge seems terrifying when you initially come across it.

Think about it, a little kid realizes she cannot ride her bike with training wheels forever. Eventually she has to find her balance with her feet. What a scary yet exhilarating thought. The fear that taunts us finds its home in the face of the unknown. We are frightened of the things we do not know. Not to mention the things we cannot control. 

When I was that little kid, I believed falling was the worst thing that could happen to me in my entire life. As if I fall off more than just my bike. I might fall off the world!

I got on my bike, took a deep breath and started peddling for my life. The superhero speed was short-lived thanks to a very large camouflaged dip in the sand. I fell, but not off the earth, more into it.

The point is, it was not as dramatic as I thought it would be. A short time after, I overcame a new fear, imperfect sandwiches. You know? The kind where the cheese is falling off the bread, or the syrup is running out and making everything sweet and soggy. My personal worst fear was when some of the mincemeat fell off my toast. 

I saw imperfect sandwiches as ruined meals. Inedible. When I finally realized the imperfections did not matter my dad was almost more relieved than me. 

We face difficulties every single day. At that moment you think it is all just too much, you cannot do it. It's impossible. But just remember all the times you have felt like that, you made it this far, just do it.

I will end with a quote:
Sometimes you climb out of bed in the morning and you think, I'm not going to make it, but you laugh inside — remembering all the times you've felt that way.
- Charles Bukowski

The gamble that is life

I desperately want to write something smart. I am a student. I am supposed to be smart.

Fat chance.

Once you think you know something, in reality you still don't know anything. This whole student life thing is really hard. A reality check is an understatement. School was a joke and you know what? I did not learn anything of major importance. The lesson that meant the most to me, is that people are assholes.

University is no walk in the park. My scores are less than desirable to say the least. The extremely shitty thing is, the moment you think you finally comprehend the work, you receive a test score reminding you, you suck.

Working at a grocery store never looked so great. People study 3 to 8 years to receive a certificate they might frame and eventually forget as it gathers dust in that one drawer that contains the weirdest most useless stuff you own.

Then again, your chances to get a more bearable job improve considerably if you have that certificate. The only way you can remain partially sane in the life of a student, is to remember, it is an attempt at a better future. I say attempt because I know a qualification does not secure a job for all of us. It's a gamble.

Life is one big gamble. You just have to blow on your lucky dice and hope the odds are ever in your favour. The way I see it, is that if you give up halfway why did you try in the first place?

Finish the race, you might fall on the way, fall flat on your face or even your ass (Depending on your coordination and overall balance. Fatties like myself will suffer here and there) But for goodness sake, get up and go on.

Made in South Africa

This is what I live for. This is who I am. I am watching the State Of The Nation of South Africa, and it is utter chaos. Proudly South African? I think not.

If the nation's political parties cannot even survive one speech by the "honourable president..." how completely screwed are we? I was aware that we are in a bad state... But this? No wonder people leave. Shout out to the parties who left. The fact that you kept bitchslapping the "madam speaker" with constitutional rules had her speechless with rage.. Because she had no reply...

2 Political parties have left the occasion. The DA by choice and the EFF by force. The DA left gracefully after requirements regarding their rights were not met. The EFF... Ja Malema, you have serious guts to take on the president in the middle of his speech.. But you cannot enforce a rule by breaking another one. Now the president is giving a speech to the members of his own party basically. I don't know where the other parties went... Maybe they are having a joined party (insert laugh here) at some unsuspecting coffeehouse.

The people of SA are tired, we are angry, we are gatvol. The crime, the poverty... and at the risk of being too literal. The actual state of the nation. Why are we loadshedding? Apartheid. Why are we poor? Apartheid. What do we blame every time without any hesitation? Apartheid. When will we start blaming Nkandla? When will we blame the parliament? When will we blame Zuma?

We don't care about your speech! It has been the same speech for the past 8 years!!! We want answers to the questions that we have been asking time and time again. The worst part of this dyingofboredomspeech is that you never follow through on all of your promises. You don't try, you don't care.

Mister Zuma,
The clock is ticking and you are not delivering.. I think we all know which component is unchangeable. #needanewleader #thisoneisbroken #anyoneforpresident. And no, not you Malema. Sorry neh. You have drive and dedication. But your approach is definitely questionable.

#loveit #hateit #shareit